I think it is safe to say that the past few weeks have been emotional for the CMB faithful. I cried a fair bit at the Band Building dedication and cried my fair share when the CMB took the field again. I continuously stand in awe of how the program grows in ways I do not expect.

Who knew Kyle Singleton’s shouting in the tunnel would become a stalwart ritual?

Who knew how many silly stand moves would stand the test of time and bizarre anti-establishment movements in pop culture (yes, hipsters I mean you)?

Who knew the downtown mall would sweat with anticipation when the
drumline so much as flinches?

My physical proximity to the CMB makes these realizations possible. I can literally hear Pease critique rehearsals from my dining room table! Beyond physical proximity, the entire CMBAA Board and I share a different proximity with our beloved band. We share a continued investment in its future, as well as an investment in our own future as an organization. Becoming a member of the Board means sharing and developing your emotional investment in the CMB with a group of highly motivated and diverse individuals. It also means working creatively to bring that investment to Alumni across the world (and perhaps one day the Universe!) and preserve that investment for future CMBers (no matter where pop culture takes their hairstyles and eye-wear — cheap plastic sunglasses? side ponytails? come on people look in the mirror!).

All passive-aggressive sarcasm aside, extending my relationship with my friends on the CMBAA board and becoming closer to acquaintances has been a defining feature of my post-bachelors and post-masters world.

In exactly one month we will begin again our process of electing Officers (President & Secretary) and Members-At-Large (4). For the first time, Members-At-Large will step down to let new faces fill the video chat windows. In the past year alone the CMBAA has grown and evolved in so many remarkable ways that I must pose the question, “Will you help us grow farther?”

If you are interested in becoming a Board Member, please email board [at] uvacmbaa.org. We will happily answer your questions.

If you would like to be involved, but are unsure if you can commit to holding an elected position, then please email us anyway. We are always looking for new faces to fill new roles that we had not envisioned!
Also, I hold in good authority there are several “Ad Hoc” Committee roles that will become available in the next few months.

This post was sponsored by a flurry of emails on the CMBAA Board Mailing list and many many fond memories of similar times back in undergrad.

My odometer just turned 75 years of age and I can’t help but think back to my first year (2003) as a volunteer with the University of Virginia Marching Band. Moving into the new band building will be a huge departure from those first couple of months at old U-Hall ticket office where the band office was originally located. I would like to share with you some of those recollections.

Grandpa Dick usually saves the day.

When I first moved to Charlottesville in 2003, I read in the newspaper that The University was going to start a marching band program. Having just retired I felt that I needed to get off the couch and volunteer my services for something worthwhile. I choose our band and The Building Goodness Foundation.

On that first day when I walked into that old band office there sat the original crew – Tiffany Hornberger (Band Secretary), Drew Ross (Grad Assistant), Sean McCrosky (Grad Assistant), Doug Phillips (Associate Director) and of course, Mr. Pease. Before I entered that office complex, I could hear the laughter from the hall. It would be several weeks before I met the rest of the gang – Ilon Weeldreyer (Percussion Instructor), Dwight Purvis (Brass Instructor), Tricia Gooley (Color Guard Instructor) and Diane Gunnels (Twirling Coach).
That first year was hard on everyone but here are some of my favorite memories:

Rain dripping on Mr. Pease’s computer from a leaky roof…never did get the roof fixed.

How neat Mr. Phillip’s desk was after a full day’s work.

Kenton Griffin (trumpet player from Stafford) trying to put our bass cart together (without directions) in the hallway.

Trevor Perrier (now with the Peace Corps in Africa). Nobody had more fun in college than Trevor…what a delight!

What an awful job it was cleaning the cage after a football game. We actually ate, dressed, and undressed there…WITHOUT CHAIRS OR TABLES!

Driving back three or four times from Scott Stadium to the Cage to get numerous items band members forgot…one time a piccolo player forgot her piccolo.

Trying to find the Gator after it had been stolen and wrecked by a group of partying students.

Cleaning gravy out of the bed of my pickup truck from a full turkey dinner prepared by UVA Hospital Catering for the band.

Diane Gunnels driving Erica Seredni from Richmond for our marching band practice (Erica was our first twirler and a high school senior at the time).

But most of all, I remember the pride I had when Dick Mountjoy (our first announcer at Scott Stadium) said: “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME YOUR 2003 UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA MARCHING BAND!”Nobody had more tears in their eyes than I did.

I do hope you will all come back and visit the new band building.

Please come to practice and shake my hand. Faces I remember, names I don’t (except for those in this letter).

REMEMBER:Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will.STAY IN TOUCH!

Much love,
Grandpa Dick

badhat24030 [at] embarqmail.com

This post was contributed by Grandpa Dick, the only person to whom the cops at Scott Stadium smile when he gators on by (NO seriously I saw this happen, laser eyes to happy puppy eyes).

Bottom of the 9th and down one run. Bases loaded. Two outs. Two strikes. Game three of the Super Regional tournament. Who else could be playing but the Cardiac Cavs? The winner goes on to Omaha for the College World Series. The tension is palpable; the fate of the Cavs’ season rests on Chris Taylor’s shoulders. 60 feet 6 inches away, the pitch comes in. A swing and a line drive up the middle! One run scores, runner rounds 3rd base, the throw…too late, safe! Wahoo dogpile at home plate; the left field bleachers erupt in delightful euphoria! The Virginia Cavalier baseball was on the way to Omaha after what Coach Brian O’Connor called the “most significant victory in UVa history”— and John and Max were damn sure going to follow them.
Immediately following the UVa victory in game one of the College World Series, we left Charlottesville and headed west on Interstates 64 and 81, regrettably towards Roanoke and unspeakable points thereafter. We pushed through the thunderstorms into Charleston, WV where we spent the night. Next morning, we fueled up in Kentucky along the historic Bourbon Trail, pushed on through Indiana and Illinois, drove right by the beautiful Gateway Arch in St. Louis, and made it all the way across Missouri into Kansas City. At this point, we were ready to take the interstate north into Omaha. Bad news: most roads along the Missouri River are closed due to flooding. More bad news: thunderclouds ahead of us shroud the early evening sky in darkness. After a long drive, we weren’t really in the mood to tackle any tornados, so we stopped along the highway in the beautiful town of Mound City, MO (pop. 1,193). The next morning, we took back roads through wind turbine-swept Missouri, hilly Iowa, and west into Omaha.
We reached Omaha early on, but before we could stop for the game, we needed to find a place to stay. We consulted our handy map for outlying towns. What’s this—Wahoo, Nebraska!?! We couldn’t pass this up! We booked a room in the Wahoo Heritage Inn and headed back to Omaha for a day of baseball.
While the worst of the storms had passed through, the weather was still threatening and we were worried that the game might be postponed. We buoyed our spirits at one or more of the local pubs and then made our way to brand new TD Ameritrade® Park. The ballpark itself was very nice, featuring state-of-the-art amenities but still having the charm of an old park like Fenway or Wrigley. However, we didn’t come for niceties, it was time to get down to business and give left fielder John Barr all the support we could.
We sat in the second row right next to the UVa bullpen. Before the game and during the rain delay, we watched as Mr. Perfect Game Will Roberts took some time off from warming up to retrieve beach balls that fans were throwing onto the field. The fans in the outfield bleachers consisted of thousands of local high school kids whose main mission was to attract as much attention to themselves as possible and pretend to be Florida Gators fans. Needless to say, Holden Caulfield would not have liked these phonies. Fast forward a few hours, we sulked back over to our hotel room in Wahoo, never to speak of the atrocity that was Game Two ever again.
The baseball team had Wednesday off, so we had all day to do the sightseeing. We took a trip to the zoo, a great Midwestern steakhouse (Cascio’s, if you’re ever in the area), and a few bars. After John’s late night pit stop for 20 McNuggets and Max’s car came seconds away from being towed by the local authorities, we decided it was best to turn in for the night.
The next morning, tired of crowded and over-priced hotels, we drove a bit out of town and set up a campsite for the remainder of the week. It was definitely the best decision of the trip, and gave us a chance to stretch out and relax by practicing our baseball fundamentals by playing catch.
Back in Omaha, we stopped by a bar called Barry-O’s, the former workplace of Coach O’Connor during his days at nearby Creighton University and unofficial hangout of Wahoo fans.
Onward to the Hoos’ third game of the CWS, an elimination game against California. Tyler Wilson pitched a gem of a game while the bats came alive en route to an 8-1 gutting of the Golden Bears. We retired to our campground excited and ready for the showdown against South Carolina the next day.
For this game, we occupied standing-room-only space behind the UVa reserved seats, and were fortunate to meet up with fellow CMBAA member Woody Wingfield, who was in town on business. What we saw in the first 3 innings of that game will never be repeated. Danny Hultzen struck out 8 of the 10 batters he faced, yielding just one hit on a blooper single. The Gamecock batters were dropping like flies in 96mph turbulence. Just imagine the confusion when Coach O’Connor took Hultzen out after three innings; we later found out that Hultzen was heroically pitching with a stomach flu.
A pitching duel ensued, neither team managing to score any runs at the plate. As the 9th inning came and went tied 2-2, UVa closer Branden Kline engaged in a dramatic showdown with SC’s pitcher. The game began to resemble a heavyweight fight, as both pitchers traded punches with their backs against the wall. Even in the 13th inning, we had the bases loaded with no outs and couldn’t muster a single run. Fate was against us in the bottom of the 13th as a throwing error by new pitcher Cody Winiarski turned a sacrifice bunt into a situation with two men on base with no outs. On the very next pitch, the batter squared to bunt again and laid a soft grounder into the infield. Again, Winiarski fielded the bunt and made a wild throw, sending the ball into the dugout, allowing the runner from second base to turn the corner at third and head home for the victory. We stood there dumbfounded and broken. Later that night, low thunder and lightning rolled in and the campsite was drenched in cold rain. The tears of Thomas Jefferson were surely felt that night in Omaha.
It was a very fun trip, despite having our hearts ripped out. We left many things in Omaha that week; among them were good memories, Wahoo pride, unpaid parking tickets, and the rear bumper of Max’s car (no really, it fell off). However, with the dynasty that Brian O’Connor is building in Charlottesville, we know the UVa baseball team will be back in Omaha soon and so will we.
This post was contributed by Max Friedfeld and John Jacobson who found more than just baseball on their cross-country field trip.